


Hush Little Baby

by To_Shiki



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Face-Fucking, Forced Pregnancy, Gender or Sex Swap, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Characters, Mpreg, Object Penetration, Pregnancy Kink, Rape/Non-con Elements, faking pleasure, it's a kink meme promt, surprise surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 13:17:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19251985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/To_Shiki/pseuds/To_Shiki
Summary: Adaar and Dorian are happily married and ruling Skyhold at the end of the game.  There's just one thing missing: children, offspring, mini me's.  After running head long into multiple dead ends, it's the Iron Bull, who's suffering along Krem and his troubles, who comes up with a drunken solution.It's perfect!  Their husbands will forgive them in time...





	Hush Little Baby

**Author's Note:**

> Kink Meme promt: The world is saved and now the Inquisitor is ready to settle down with Dorian and have heirs for skyhold. Unfortunately Dorian's male and doesn't have the right parts. Being a little warped he decides to fix that. He spends a long time coaxing Dorian towards the idea of having kids and then has him knocked out, only to wake up with his penis gone and everything replaced with a female's reproductive parts. As everything heals, Inky keeps convincing him its all good. Belly worship as he grows heavier with child.  
> Bonus  
> -the female's vagina is from a smaller race than Inky, to make Dorian tight  
> \--Dorian slowly gains feeling from the female parts, until then he's trained to know how to react when Inky fucks/plays with him  
> \---when Dorian starts lactating he's not big enough, so Inky uses potions/mage to make them bigger

If there was one thing that Adaar prides himself on it’s that he is very committed to what he sets his sights on.  Saving the world?  Done.  Resulting in an absolutely devoted Inner Circle that many could only dream of.  Unite the citizens of Skyhold and have a peaceful rule?  The old fortress has been returned to its former glory and rulers from all the lands have acknowledged Adaar as the King of Skyhold.  Marry his Tevinter lover in public for the world to see?  Everyone who was anyone was there with well wishes and gifts for the newly-weds.  Make it so that said husband was always happy – emotionally and physically – and never want for anything?

Failing.

Miserably.

Waking up to shower just the right amount of encouragement to keep at his research, making sure he was fed, well rested, and thoroughly fucked out helped keep the former Pavus heir (now joint king of Skyhold) physically happy.  And if he was ever asked he would deny __ever__  lacking for anything now that he had unlimited sources and assistants eager to help and learn.

But emotionally…  Adaar never failed to notice how Dorian’s gaze would follow his when Adaar would spot mothers with their children.  The strong Qunari never missed seeing the pang of longing in those stormy grey eyes when children would clamber around the brave mage and beg for another story.

They rarely talk about __IT.__   At least in public.  Adaar brings it up as they relax in bed, drowsy from lovingly rough sex.  The battle-scared Qunari, still in his prime, whispering sweetly about being woken up by little ones barging into their rooms and onto their bed.

After a grand feast, food and wine overflowing, they would return to the privacy of their rooms.  Dorian would let Adaar slowly undress him in front of their large mirror.  Strong hands, rough with callouses, framing his little protruding belly from all the indulging (at Adaar’s insistence) at the dinner table.  They would rub his curve, coming up with baby names – from the most cherished to the absurd.

While they walked the grounds of their prospering kingdom they would comment on the growing number of families settling down.  And the number of families simply __growing__.  They would take turns, as they strolled arm-in-arm, pointing out the children.  Sometimes it would be to praise a child’s behavior and sometimes to criticize – claiming they would __never__  let their own children behave in such a manner.

And it was fine.

For a while.

The fantasizing was wonderful.  Usually those days lead to very passionate fucking.  Like they really were working on breeding Dorian full of Qun-Vint babies.  But it aggravated Adaar to no end knowing that no matter how full of food or come he would fill his husband with, it would never result in the children they wanted.

They had briefly talked about adopting.  The war was over, plenty of parents had been killed, either on the battlefield or in the crossfire.  They soon found out that not only were a lot of adults killed, but so too were the young.  Those coming to settle into Skyhold brought the orphaned children they found along the way and had already claimed them as their own.  For they had either lost their own or like the kings couldn’t have their own.  Neither of them could bare the thought of tearing the new families apart for their own selfish desires.

In the end all Adaar could see was that he was failing his husband and had doomed him to a life of pseudo-completion.

One night, when the Iron Bull and his Chargers had returned home from another successful mission, the two Qunari took to a table and as many ales as they wanted and talked.  Both men took turns spilling everything – from how the latest mission went to politics to their love lives.  They congratulated, consoled, and advised where needed.

Mostly it was consoling over how terribly they were doing by their lovers.  Dorian was happy but lacking in the family area.  Krem was happy but will still struggle with how __wrong__  his body was.  How, at the end of the day, Dorian had to return his enraptured audience back to their parents.  How there were days were Krem couldn’t move from his bed due to the intensity of his cramps.

A drunken joke spills out as more ale comes to their table.  The light chatter as the waitress playfully flirts with them both does little to distract them from the joke.  It slowly mutates into a plan – twisted and only teasing.  But with each gulp of ale, with each tidbit of information plotted out and examined…

They woke up the next day in the Iron Bull’s room above the tavern.  Neither ‘Vint wanted either of their men that drunk in their beds, as the note on the bedside table informed them.

“Which means they slept together,” Bull mumbles as he squints down at Krem’s messy scribbles.  “Mmm, that’s hot.”

Adaar stumbles out of bed towards the pisspot.  “Or the complete opposite, knowing how those two suck the heat out of anything they can.”

“Ha!  Isn’t that the truth!”  Bull’s turn and then they ready for the day.  Both swallow some painkilling potions to help with the hangovers before they make their way out into the morning light.  They’re headed to the Inquisitor’s rooms to wake their lovers when a commotion in the square catches their attention.

Being taller than most of the citizens is a blessing when it comes to seeing over the heads of the crowd gathered.  They still have to push their way closer to get a good view over the cheering mass but it’s worth it when they see what has everyone enthralled.

It’s another mock battle of Chargers vs. Mages that normally take place when both groups are within Skyhold.  The only difference this time is that it’s the miniature versions.  Young children in hastily made robes and cloth armor are at opposite ends, crowded around their leaders as they make a plan of attack.

As they watch, the groups break apart and commence the battle.  Parents and spectators cheer the kids on as the play fight begins.  Dorian’s conjuring up snowballs for his mages to throw while Krem helps his deflect them.  Each side slowly creeps closer and closer to their opponents.  Some focus on defense, some on offense, and a few try darting out or through to try and grab the handkerchiefs hanging from the leaders’ belts.

Usually it’s the adults doing this with a lot more physicality involved.  Usually Adaar and the Iron Bull are right in the thick of it, locking horns and showing off.  Now, though…  Now they get to watch the two they care for the most take the lead.

Adaar gets to witness firsthand just how well Dorian is handling and guiding children.

The Iron Bull get to watch as once more Krem is slightly distracted from the binder around his chest pinching when he twists out of the way of grabby hands.

The game won’t end until one side has all three handkerchiefs.  Each has one.  While they watch, the two Qunari look at each other, look back at the two Tevinters, and plot.  A passing guard is summoned and sent to fetch the Spymaster who’s watching from her window.

After all, if you need something done, something not-too-moral, quietly and correctly she’s the one to call.

~^~

Two weeks go by with ravens flying to and from Skyhold with messages.  Nothing surprising.  There’s always activity up in the Leliana’s tower.  The fact that those messages have less than savory dealings within them is no one’s business.  Also still par for the course.

Not that anyone would believe that King Adaar would do such a thing to his husband without King Dorian’s permission.

Some __might__  believe the Iron Bull capable of such a thing.  He did leave the Qun and all to follow the Inquisitor.

Two weeks go by with thoroughly thought out requests being answered.  Parchments detailing what all will be done and the cost of such.  A hastily scrawled warning at the bottom of the last message has both men chuckling and replying in the affirmative.

Well of course they want the changes to be permanent.  

Only the best for their men.

~^~

Another week passes before Adaar and his husband decide to take a small excursion to survey their prospering lands.  Winter has passed, an early spring has melted the snow, and the cooped up couple take the Iron Bull and Krem along as ‘protection’.  Mostly at the behest of their advisers.

The two Tevinter natives keep up friendly banter when their companions don’t wish to converse.  They travel light, there are plenty of inns and other lodging along the way that would have no trouble housing them for the night.  

Two days in to their journey they stop by a more remote inn along the northern border of Skyhold.  A quaint little three-story building that is slowly seeing better days now that there’s no worry of imminent war.  Their horses are taken to a well-kept stable around back while their packs are carried in for them.

Only a handful of patrons are in when the four travelers settle in for a hot meal.  The passes are no longer blocked by the snowfall and soon the inn will be bustling with business.  

Dorian doesn’t miss the meaningful wink their waitress sends Adaar’s way as she serves them their drinks.  He merely raises an eyebrow, absentmindedly stamping down any lingering self-doubt at the thought of his husband cheating on him.  Too many years have passed for that to ever truly be a worry.  Instead he teases, “Someone you know, amatus?  Shall I introduce myself?”  A twitch of his lips and a hooded glace has the young woman blushing.

She knows it’s nothing.  Knows what will happen tonight.  Her kings are devoted to each other and has no actual interest in her.  But she refuses to deny that the mage king is very attractive.  She sets his drink down with a breathy giggle and curtsies away for their food.  The Iron Bull’s boisterous laugh follows her as he watches the two men race to drink down their first ale.

~^~

A few more ales later, bellies full and eyelids heavy, the group’s ready for some shuteye.  The Qunari joke about what lightweights the Tevinters are as they slowly stumble down the stairs.  Strong arms lift them up when they flop down onto the very hard, very uncomfortable beds.  They’re carefully rearranged on the bare beds and stripped of all their clothing.  

A mumbled complaint from both men as they feel their lovers bind them down to the bed.  The alcohol runs thick through their veins, muting everything to the point of floating.  Reassurances reach their ears as the door’s opened and shut again.  Strange voices echo through the room as they finally fall asleep.

~^~

Muted __sharp__  pain sometime later. Strange, medicinal odors cling to the insides of their nostrils as they linger between sleep and waking.  Tongues feel coated with a thin layer of fur from the ale, fingers and toes tingle from impeded circulation.  The sensation of coming and going, some _ _thing__  leaving and something new in its place.  Dull pinpricks and pulling, cool thick liquid rubbed into tender skin.  Deep rumbling soothing distress they don’t feel on a conscious level.

Not yet.

Neither notice as the Iron Bull, cradling Krem in his arms, nods farewell to Adaar who was holding Dorian.  They couldn’t see the pleased expressions on their faces as they took their leave of the two dwarves in blood-smeared overcoats and slowly climbed up from the basement to their actual lodging.

~^~

Dorian woke to a hazy mind and a heavy body.  He was lying flat on his back – a position he rarely favored – in the middle of their huge bed.  Alone.  Bleary grey eyes close, lungs take a deep breath, mind ready to cherish the musky scent of his husband surrounding him on the bedding.  Or at least he tries to take a deep breath.

There’s something restricting his chest.  Sleepy mind fails to panic right away.  It wouldn’t be the first time he’s tossed and turned enough while trying to get warm to tangle the sheets tightly around himself.  After the first several dozen times the shock fades away.

Although that doesn’t explain the extra weight pressing down on his chest.  A weak hand flops up to tug at the sheet and the source of the weight.

It’s not body-warmed silk bedding that meet his fingers.  The material’s the same roughness of bandaging the healers use.  Gauze.  The same width, the same thickness of the fabric…

Now his brain’s beginning to go into panic mode.

‘What happened?’ it screams as he tries to coordinate lifting his head enough to see his bound chest.  ‘Were we attacked last night?  Adaar!’

“Ad-!” his parched throat cracks out halfway through his husband’s name.  Arms flail about the bed, searching for a familiar body.  Moving his legs causes stabbing bolts of pain in his lower abs and groin.  Chest bandages leave him short of breath when the door finally opens.

“Ah!  You’re finally awake!” Adaar’s deep, soothing voice echoes quietly within the confines of the room.  Overjoyed Dorian ignores himself in favor of checking up on his husband.

Adaar __appears__  fine.  He’s dressed casually in his tight leathers and multitude of belts.  No shirt, of course.  ‘A Qunari thing,’ he and Bull like to joke.  Gold and silver bands decorating curled back horns sparkle in the low lighting.  His black hair is loosely braided from crown to his lower back.

He looks perfect.  Just like the first time Dorian had laid eyes on him so many years ago.

Dorian lifts a hand towards his dark grey skinned husband.  In the blink of an eye Adaar’s across the room, one leg on the bed as he sits next to Dorian.  Bronze and grey fingers intertwine as the two gaze at each other.

“What’s wrong, Kadan?” Adaar asks as he kisses the back of Dorian’s hand.  “You seemed troubled when I walked in.”

“I don’t-“ the prone mage struggles to gather his thoughts.  A strange smell fills the air as Adaar lights an odd colored candle next to their bed for better light.  “Why am I…  Why am…  Was there a fight?  Are __you__  all right?”  His free hand comes up to pat his bound chest when his husband tilts his head to the side in confusion.  For a second Dorian can’t help but follow the light bouncing off his husband’s jewelry and reflecting on the walls.

The hand flops down onto his chest, resting lightly over the veritable mountain of gauze they must have used.  ‘Does this village possess no mage healer at all?’ he grouses to himself as the added weight of his hand makes his chest ache anew.

Adaar chuckles lightly in understanding.  “No, no, my love.  There was no battle.  Just extra precaution for while you rest.”  Letting go of Dorian’s hand he twists a little to grab one of the vials of nauseatingly green-brown potions laying on the side table.  Mindful of his sharp canines he removes the cork with his teeth and spits it out onto the floor.

“How like a savage,” comes Dorian’s gentle teasing.  His eyes easily track the vial’s path to his mouth.  “Wait.  Precaution?  For what?”  What is that potion?  What’s it even for?

“Ha!  You like it when I get all rough and ‘uncivilized’ with you!”  Dorian’s questions are completely ignored as he starts to tip the vial.  When Dorian tries to raise his hands to stop the motion he growls low in his chest in warning.

Automatically Dorian goes to raise his arms above his head in submission.  He’s not ashamed to admit that some actions have been conditioned into his psyche.  A growl like that typically means he’s going to need something substantial to hold onto before he’s fucked into the wall.  Twin jolts of pain lance up the sides of his chest before he can get his hands higher than his head.  So instead of the headboard he grabs onto the pillow beneath his head and hopes for the best.  The welcoming rush of arousal goes straight down to his cock and-

Disappears.

Before he can try to lift the covers to investigate Adaar redirects his attention to more important matters.

The sudden lack of a hardening cock’s forgotten in favor of the burning pleasure of having a fistful of hair yanked back, tilting his head and exposing his throat.  As his lips part in a gasp the vial’s rim is shoved in past his lips.  It’s either swallow or drown.  With the hunger smoldering in Adaar’s eyes the latter seems like the worst possible choice.

The potion is just as nauseating in flavor as it is in color as it slides thickly across his tongue and down his throat.   _ _S-l-o-w-l-y__.  It clings to his tongue, his teeth, all down his throat and to his stomach.  He starts squirming like a child, trying to convey how much ‘do not like’ it is with his eyes when Adaar finally helps him out a little.

“Can’t leave so much in your mouth, honey.  Healer says you gotta swallow as much as you can.”  The vial’s pushed in further, resting right at the back of his tongue.  Adaar angles it this way and that to scrape up as much as he can with the rim and push it towards the back of Dorian’s throat.

He does this for a solid minute: fucking his husband’s mouth with a glass container no thicker than his thumb.  Once he’s sure he’s gotten as much down Dorian’s throat he tosses the vial aside and climbs up.  Belts and lacing quickly undone he pulls out his throbbing cock and shoves it down Dorian’s throat.

“This will help get the rest of it into that sweet little belly of yours,” he grunts.  Thighs thick with muscles trap Dorian’s head in place as he sets a punishing pace.  Adaar’s heavy balls slaps down against Dorian’s chin with a __smack__  each time he thrusts down.  Dorian’s hands scramble to get a steadying grip on anything.  As precome starts to coat his tongue he misses the potion going into effect.

Vaguely he can feel heat pooling south again.  Distantly he can feel himself leaking a little.  Mostly he feels his lungs burning from what little air he can get and pinpricks of pain from the strands of hair caught under Adaar’s legs.

All that matters right at this moment is that when his man is about to come he pulls back until only the tip remains in his mouth.  In a few seconds his mouth is flooded with Adaar’s thick, bitter seed.  Dorian happily swishes it around in his mouth to help wash away the taste of the potion before swallowing.

Excitement over, Dorian lets his hands flop back down onto the bed.  He’s not one to fall asleep after sex, especially not after some foreplay and a blowjob, but he’ll blame it on the potion.  As he floats away from the potion and post-orgasmic haze he can feel Adaar shuffling down the bed.  Cold air sweeps up along Dorian’s bared legs, barely rousing him.  The potion has effectively numbed him enough that when his legs are grabbed and gently pried open there’s no pain at all.  

“Well, would ya look at that.”

Layers around his hips are peeled away.  A shiver runs up his spine at more cool air hitting exposed skin.

“You’re amazing, Kadan.”  The praise in Adaar’s voice has the man sleepily preening.

“’f course I’m.”  There’s a strange… _ _pressure__  between his cock and hole.  “Why’m th’s time?”  The sensation increases enough that he’s weakly trying to shift away from it.  Pressure starts sliding towards pain and he feebly cries out.  Adaar knows the difference between pleased and pained sounds, after all.  He knows to stop then.

“Can you feel that?”  More pressure.  Maybe not.

“Y-yes, please stop.  It’s-“

“Painful?”  Less pressure.

“More of uncomfortable with a little bit of pain.”

With that admission the pressure disappears completely.  It doesn’t get rid of the sudden emptiness he can feel between his legs.  ‘Almost feels like there’s a gaping __hole__  down there!’

“You, you never answered as to why I’m so amazing,” he prompts.  His head and body ache for a distraction as the potion and endorphins weigh his body down.

“Hmm?”  Adaar’s doing something to Dorian’s lower regions, eyes alight with awe.  “Oh!  It’s just that you’re a little wet.  I didn’t think that would happen so soon after.”

“Is that all?”  He has enough energy left to gently scoff.  “With you it takes more than one measly potion to keep me from at least showing some interest.”

“Ha!  Very true, Kadan.”  Finished with whatever he’d been doing, Adaar moves back up and covers them properly with the thick blankets.

Dorian’s snuggled up as much as he can to his amatus and so misses the empty vial sitting on the bedside table.  The first one had been shattered after Adaar had carelessly tossed it aside.  

~^~

The next day pans out the same.  Wake, sigh, then panic at the hindered breathing. Adaar coming in, feeds him a potion, then fucks his mouth with both vial and cock.  Failed orgasm on Dorian’s part but praise anyways at how wet he’s become.

The intensity of the pressure is what changes.  It becomes sharper despite the earlier potion and amazing sex.  He could feel something long and unforgivably hard pressing into a place that was __not__  his ass.

The weight and bandaging on his chest keeps him from being able to look down and see what’s going on.  His husband’s restraining hands keeps his own from wondering down to at least try to feel out where that thing is going between his legs.  Or to feel if his own cock is even still there.  He can feel just how much lighter he is below the belt and it’s only the fog of the potion(s) keeping him from truly worrying about it.

At least for days one and two.

~^~

The third day was the charm.  Just like in all those horrible romance novels that both men will deny ever reading.

Although this day did not contain happy declarations of undying love and devotion.  Beautiful skies, a pleasant breeze, and waking to the sight of the breath-taking being that is his husband, yes.  Feeling like all was right in the perfect little bubble that is their room…

Not so much.

Either the last night’s potion has worn off or it hasn’t been as potent as the first two (four) doses.  Dorian wakes with a clarity he’s never had outside of the battle-ready mindset that comes with camping out on missions.

His chest and groin areas positively pulsate in pain in time with his beating heart.  In the back of his mind a voice is also waking up, screaming that something important is missing.  Something new is in its place and it’s not what the Maker blessed him with.  

It’s a short struggle to remove himself from both bed and husband.  Standing up after being prone for three days (has it only been three?) has him wobbling around like a newborn colt.  His chest feels even heavier, gravity pulling at the tender skin as he carefully makes his way to the vanity.

The shooting pains in his groin makes it more of a creeping shuffle after two steps.  Anything more and he’s sure he’d be a whimpering mess on the floor.

Reaching the bench seat of the vanity feels like more of a victory than it should.  The short distance coupled with the pain leaves him gasping shallowly as he lowers himself down.  Sitting turns out to be as unpleasant as walking.  A glance behind him shows Adaar facing him and still sound asleep.

‘Good,’ he thinks.

Although he’s not too sure why he’s glad of that fact.  He has no need to sneak around, as it were, to see what’s underneath the all the gauze.  If he’d ask he’s positive Adaar would tell him.  The burly qunari has never kept anything of importance from him before.

Mind at ease he turns back around and takes in his appearance in the overly fancy mirror.

‘He really did go all out for this expedition,’ flits through his mind.  Their room was indeed very fancy for being so out of the way.  Spacious room, decadently huge and sturdy bed, soft bedding, and ornate trimmings everywhere.  The walls even had silencing glyphs painted on them to ensure the utmost privacy.  Looking closer, he could even see a handful of magic-suppressing seals up.  ‘Most likely to ensure I don’t set someone else’s curtains ablaze.’  Adaar had even taken the time to neatly arrange all of Dorian’s personal belongings on the counter of the vanity.

His reflection smiles back at him as he rubs his palms over his cheeks.  His husband’s done a wonderful job keeping him well-groomed and fresh while he’s been lazing about in bed.  The bedside table still has the lavender scented water he’s been wiped down with.  Then wiped down again in other more pleasant areas.

There’s barely a hint of stubble so he forgoes shaving.  Instead he picks up his razor and carefully cuts away the tight knot holding the two ends of his bindings together.  It takes time to unwind it all, by now it could use a washing if he needs to be bound up again.  At first his breathing eases, permitting him to take that deep, cleansing breath he’s been needing.

Until he sees what was hidden underneath.

He’d expected to see damaged flesh.  Stitches, redness from infection, jagged pink lines of healing scars.  The sort of things common from an injury.

Faint, perfectly curving lines sealing two decently shaped lumps under the skin of his pectorals was not anywhere near what could have been anticipated.

Nor what should ever be on his chest.

He has no control over his hands, brain quietly disassociating from his body, as he stares dumbly into the mirror.  He watches, fascinated, as his reflection hesitantly fondles each breast.  Vaguely he’s aware of how __squishy__  they are, the heft of them cupped in the palms of his hands.  Flicking a nail against his hardening nipple sends a painful jolt of pleasure down to pool in his belly.  A gasp of surprise pushes them into his hands and he drops them.

The bounce and jiggle as they resettle on his chest reminds him of the ache from earlier.  Now free of their restriction they only twinge here and there as he twists his torso from side to side.  He’s seen his fair share of women naked, especially after they found out he was not interested in them, and can tell that at least they’re well-formed.  Bar stories from both the Iron Bull and Sera have given him a good idea of what men, and women, look for in breasts – their perkiness, the weight of them, their give when handled.

One side of his mind supplies, ‘at least they’re perfect,’ while the other side just __screams__ , __‘not right, not right, how did this happen?’__

Coming back to himself, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, brought the pain in his groin front and center.  He quickly stands up, vanity bench crashing to the floor.  Adaar waking from the noise and sitting up goes unnoticed as shaking hands go down to the other set of wrappings.

Gauze around his chest and privates.  The breasts of a woman underneath the top bandaging…

__‘No, no, no, nononononono…’_ _

The second wrappings receive less care as Dorian hacks away at them with his razor, not caring that he accidentally nicks his thighs and waist in the process.  In the long run, they’re less important than the deeper cuts someone made around his…

The blood-curdling scream makes his chest and throat throb.  Adaar’s on his feet in an instant, strong hands pining Dorian to his chest as the man struggles to find his misplaced cock and balls.  Struggles to turn to viciously kicking out when Adaar lets go with one hand to reach down and stick a spit-slick finger into Dorian’s dry hole – the one that has replaced Dorian’s manhood.

“What have yoU DONE TO ME?!”

Adaar doesn’t answer.  Instead he carries his still struggling husband back to their bed.  Removing his finger, he grabs at the thin sheet on the bed.  Using one hand and his teeth he rips several strips of it while Dorian continues to try and free himself.  Practice from both the Qun and in the bedroom has Dorian bound hand and foot to the bed’s posts.  Another strip forces its way into his mouth, effectively gagging him.

Skilled and strong he may be, the procedure has left Adaar slightly breathless from it all.

Or it’s just the sight of his husband’s body, almost fully healed from the surgery and laid out for his hungry gaze.  Of course, he could just be reacting to the thrill of Dorian seeing just how much he loves him.  His arousal stands tall and proud between his legs as he lays eyes on his husband’s bare form.

Muscles along arms and legs flex uselessly as he tries to wiggle his way of of his bindings.  Heaving gasps of air make his nostrils flare and his freed breasts rise and fall enticingly.  Nipples perking up into little nubs from the chill, just begging to be warmed by the heat of his mouth.  Abs tensing as hips, now a bit wider than normal, shift to relieve any lingering pain possible.

Between those trembling thighs…

Adaar has to agree that __this__  has to be the Iron Bull’s best idea.

Despite the anger, the shock, Adaar can easily see wetness glistening along the freshly-healed lips of Dorian’s new vagina.  It’s only a glint of light from the last two vials by the bed that he remembered them.  With the last doses in him, Dorian’s body’ll be ready for some fun again.

“I suppose you want to know all the how’s and why’s, don’t you?” says Adaar, ignoring his leaking cock in favor of staring his husband right in the eyes.  He moves up to the bedside table, keeping his body flush with the man beneath him.  “If you swallow your medicine like a good patient I will tell you.”  He holds up the vial between thumb and forefinger.  

Dorian eyes the vicious liquid with apprehension.  Whatever’s in it is making his new changes permanent, he just knows it.  He could refuse…  But what would happen to his body then?  Would his body reject its new parts?  Cripple or kill him?  He’s no healer but he knows not to not finish any medicines given.

Would it be better to have these changes?   _ _They could have a family!__   Where did they even come from?   _ _Proportioned to his body, so must have been a human woman.__ His husband is too noble and soft to take them from someone unwilling…

Right?

With a sigh, still muffled by the gag, he tilts his head back in acceptance.  It’s too early to __hate__  Adaar for what he’s done.  His heart __aches__ at the mere thought of walking away from this man who’s loved him for all these years.   Can’t even fully grasp that this isn’t a dream just yet.  He’ll wake up tomorrow and write this all off as a result of their wanting a child so bad.

Adaar nods in approval, gets in position and removes the gag.  Down goes the potion, in goes the vial to fuck it in further.  Then it’s replaced with a hot and heavy cock.

The fuzziness in Dorian’s head can no longer be written off from the gauze binding his chest, restricting airflow.  It has to be the potion.  Now it’s compounded by the knowledge of what’s happened as he chases the vile liquid with Adaar’s come.

When Adaar pulls away, he’s graced with the very displeased frown on Dorian’s face.  Taking his time, he leans down and licks up a trail of come at the corner of the mage’s mouth.   “I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if the Iron Bull’s waking up to the scene much like I did.”

It takes a minute for the full meaning of his words to process.  They freeze the blood in his veins quicker than an ice spell.  Steals the very air from his lungs.  It can’t be!  They __wouldn’t!__

“It honestly made so much sense,” Adaar continues.  He either doesn’t see the look of abject horror on his husband’s face or just doesn’t care.   _ _They could have a family now!__ “None of us are comfortable with blood magic.  And I would __never__  force that on you.  Not after what your father tried to do.  Bull doesn’t like magic that much.  Who __knows__  what could go wrong!”

By now, Adaar’s got the second vial firmly planted between Dorian’s lower lips.  The liquid takes forever to trickle down towards his new womb.  The sensation has Dorian wiggling in desperation to remove both.  

It’s not a dream.  Not a nightmare.

Adaar’s having none of that.  This is the very last of the medicine.  It’s job is to ensure that the body doesn’t reject its new parts.  “Lay still!”  A low growl rumbles in his chest when he’s not obeyed immediately.  One massive palm flattens against Dorian’s lower abs.

The vial goes a little deeper.  Tears gather at the corner of grey eyes.  Unable to bear the sight, the qunari leans up and tenderly kisses them away.  “None of that now, kadan.  With this we’ll be able to have all the children you could possibly desire!  Not only that, but they will truly be a mix of Tevinter and Qunari!”

Removing the vial, he replaces it with his cock.  As he fucks the medicine deeper and deeper, he keeps up a litany of, “I love you” and “I can’t wait to hold __our__ children.”  Tears are kissed away, bouncing breasts stroked and squeezed.

All the while Dorian lays there, tied to the bed, magic suppressed from the seals.  There’s nothing but an odd sensation of something thick sliding in and out down there.  Sometimes when Adaar is angled just right, a little spark of pleasure settles in his stomach.  But it’s nowhere near like how they fucked before.

~^~

The four members of Skyhold spend an entire week at the quaint little inn.  Neither Dorian nor Krem are allowed to see each other during that time.  The mage figures the other man, now with the correct parts, is in the same situation as he.  Only allowed up to relieve himself and to bathe.

At the end of that horrible week, Dorian could walk upright and only occasionally lose his balance.  Having a new center of gravity was a bit of a challenge to get used to.  Not to mention wider hips with nothing but another hole between them.

Another hole that Adaar was all too happy to get acquainted with.  For Dorian it was nothing more than a strange pressure.  Sometimes there would be a little flicker of warmth, but nothing more.  Adaar was quick to ‘reassure’ him that he would gain feeling down there properly within the next week.

Sitting calmly at the edge of the bed, Dorian watches his husband gather their belongings.  Four days of raging and fighting leaves the mage mentally and physically exhausted.  Voice hoarse from yelling profanities that fell upon deaf ears.  Fingertips tingle as his magic is cut off by the strong seals surrounding them.

“Will you at least let me use my magic to alter my robes?”  His plea is no louder than a whisper, dejection still easily heard.  “I can’t exactly go out in public with the one of the belts between my… breasts.  I don’t want people to know.  Yet.”

Adaar pauses.  With his back to the bed, Dorian can’t see the thoughtful look on the qunari’s face.  He can imagine it, though.  Would Dorian use his magic against his __loving__  husband?  Or try to change his body back to how it was?  Could he even do that?

But he’s too tired to think of doing anything in retaliation.  Maybe that was all part of Adaar’s plan:  separate him from everyone, wear him down until he just doesn’t care anymore.

Turning around to face him, Adaar walks quietly over to the bed.  Kneeling down, he takes both of Dorian’s smaller hands into his.  “There is nothing wrong with you, kadan.  I know that this has been a huge shock for you, but now we can have the family we’ve always wanted.  What the public sees and cares about is that we’re happy - that you’re happy.”

“How can I be __happy__  when you’ve done something to me, __changed my body without my permission__?”  Grey eyes glare at their entwined hands.  Those large, scarred hands would be burning from the heat of his gaze if he could access his magic.  “You say you did this for us, for me.  Yet I wasn’t included in any of this.  You went off and did something that cannot be undone.”

His chest heaves, bare skin catching his eye and flaunting his new assets.  Adaar hasn’t let him wear anything since they’re the only ones allowed in the room.  ‘To get used to what he’s been gifted with,’ he claimed.

What he doesn’t want to admit is… he __has__ begun to see them as a part of himself.  No matter how angry he gets at what’s happened, the silver lining is the thought that he can finally have children with his husband.  Even before this the two of them would talk endlessly about starting a family of their own.

Now they could.

A sharp inhale from him and Adaar’s looking up into his eyes.  He’s still so very angry at not being given a choice.  That he’ll make Adaar pay for later, when there’s no chance of being interrupted.  But for now…

“Let’s just… I won’t fight you about this.  Not now.  This is far from over.  Let’s just go home now.”  Steeling himself, he let’s go of Adaar’s hands and stands up.  “I __want__ a family with you.  I do.  You should have-”

“Included you.  I know, kadan.”  Adaar stands as well.  Walking his husband to the vanity, he assists in choosing an outfit that won’t be too revealing.  Once he’s dressed, he goes and lifts the seals.

Clothing adjusted and packs in hand, they leave their room.  Neither speaks as they walk down the hallway, down the stairs, out the door.  Dorian continues on as Adaar stops to thank the innkeeper and pay.  Continues on outside, around the corner and doesn’t stop until he reaches the stable.

He pays no mind to the missing shadow that is the Iron Bull.  Nor to the blatantly obvious silencing seals placed on several support pillars.  Doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of Krem.  Krem who is just as silent and miserable.

Neither man can bare to look the other in the eye.  They can, however, bury their face in shoulders, hands clinging desperately to clothing.  Quite sobs wrack their bodies as betrayal and defeated acceptance overwhelm them.

They refused to separate until two pairs of calloused hands settle heavily upon their shoulders.

~^~

They ride back in deafening silence.  Playful bickering and outrageous stories gone.  Slumped shoulders, quiet sighs, and indifferent shrugs meet the words from the ones who swore to always make them happy.

Camping at night has become tense.  Neither Tevinter wishes to separate from each other.  Eating supper takes longer now than the two qunari could have thought possible.  Any time they tried to sweet-talk their lover into the sleeping mats, they were brushed off, excuses made.

It’s well past midnight when Adaar and the Iron Bull have had enough.

Both men are carried over to their respective sleeping mats.  No tents, much too nice out.  Both men sigh and lay boneless as their men strip them naked.  No blankets, much too nice out.

They lay barely an arms reach away from each other.  So it isn’t difficult to hear the breathy little moans.  The whimpers and gasps as the Iron Bull goes down on Krem.

Goes down on Krem’s straining erection.

On what should be __Dorian’s__  cock.

“Do you hear those sounds he’s making, kadan?” Adaar questions.  He has Dorian flat on his back, new breasts sagging slightly with their own weight.  “Those are the noises you __will__  be making soon.”  The statement’s sealed with a chaste kiss to his throat before making his way down.

Kiss after kiss is laid upon bare skin, down the long column of his throat, down upon each clavicle.  Up the swell of his left breast.  Tongue follows quickly behind, lapping up the sweat starting to build.  Sharp teeth nibble lightly at an overly sensitive nipple.  It’s twin is stiff and begging for attention despite all of Dorian’s mental pleas to stop.

Hands soon join in.  Large, calloused hands.  Perfectly sized to hold his breasts completely.  Thumb roughly caresses his nipple as lips suckle the other.  Sensation’s slow to reach his brain.  The skin’s still too new, too desensitized from the trauma.

So he fakes it.

Rolling his head to the side and biting down on his fist, he watches Krem and the Iron Bull.  When Krem whimpers , Dorian copies it.  The little breathy moans his fellow Tevinter lets out as thick fingers work his hole open matches the ones coming from Dorian as Adaar slides his cock in his vagina.  Closing his eyes he begs pathetically for Adaar to keep going, harder, more.

If his husband notices that it’s not as heartfelt like their past joining he makes no comment.

~^~

Days bleed together after that.  Adaar keeps up a steady litany of how well things are going for them.  He fucks Dorian multiple times a night until he’s about to burst from how full his womb has become.  Keeping him plugged up with his softening cock, he guides Dorian’s hands to rub over the swell while talking about their future family.

Day by day, week by week, Dorian’s resolve is whittled away to nothing.  All his research, all his inquiries lead back to the same answer - it’s irreversible.  At least without resorting to blood magic or making a deal with a very powerful demon.

Both things that Dorian would ****never****  resort to.

Night by night, Dorian gradually loses the struggle to be angry at his husband.  For better or for worse, he had vowed.  Though it’s not like Adaar was being overly __cruel__  to him.  He immediately sought out the tailors to adjust Dorian’s wardrobe, listened to his mage ranting when the hormones began to course through his body correctly.

The ladies of their Inner Circle were very helpful to the distraught mage when he experienced his first cycle.  Extra towels, advice on foods to avoid, and tips for dealing with the cramps.  Krem met up with him a handful of times, bags under his eyes and a frown seemingly permanently on his face.  He looked no better than Dorian under all the makeup he applied.

“How’s…  How’re you dealing?”

Both men sat huddled together in the Herald’s Rest.  At their little table it was just them in a private bubble of coping misery.  They’re several cups in before either could breach the question.

“It’s growing on me, I guess,” he snorts into his mug.  “Can actually __feel__  with it.  It doesn’t feel as __foreign__ anymore.”  A large gulp of ale follows the bitterly muttered, “Like I have a choice.”

“Here, here.”  A quick toast and they toss back their drinks.  He lets a moment of silence grow before asking his own question.  “Does it always feel like this?”  At the inquisitive glace, he clarifies, “So intense, so… so encompassing?”

“Sometimes,” he draws out.  “Sometimes it’s sharper, more consuming.  Really depends on the occasion and, should I say - __skill.”__

“HA!  If anything, they are talented in getting what they want, aren’t they?”

“Enough to the point that I’m not as angry as I should be?” his friend admits hesitantly.  “Like in the beginning I could’ve killed him for doing something like this against my will.  But now…”

“Now, it’s been so long, he’s whispered just the right words straight into your brain.  Now you accept the changes.  A tiny voice in your brain hisses that this is what you always wanted.  That your life is perfect now, thanks to what he’s done,” he agrees.

~^~

The end of harvest season that year will go down in history.  A week-long celebration takes place after the kings of Skyhold make their long awaited announcement.

King Dorian’s with child.

All through the celebration, through their walks amongst  their people, neither king could keep their hands off of Dorian’s still flat stomach.  

Very few inhabitants of Skyhold dared to mention the absolute fear shining in King Dorian’s eyes.

After all, that’s how __every__  expecting mother firsts feels.  Right?

**Author's Note:**

> Didn't get to the last bonus. But I'm thinking of making it into a two-shot, with the sequel dealing with the actual pregnancy.


End file.
